


Going Back the Way We've Come

by emilysmortimer



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilysmortimer/pseuds/emilysmortimer
Summary: Mackenzie's leaving. Can Will stop her?
Relationships: Will McAvoy/MacKenzie McHale
Comments: 12
Kudos: 18





	Going Back the Way We've Come

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!
> 
> This is my first attempt at writing smut in a very long time, and I'm slightly nervous. But I hope you enjoy!

* * *

“Are you sure this is what you want?”  
  
_Is it?  
  
_ Mackenzie is stood in Charlie’s office, refusing to sit despite him offering the chair opposite him (if she sits, they’ll discuss it, and if they discuss it, it’s likely he’ll convince her to change her mind, and if she _changes_ her mind she may honestly _lose_ her mind - she’s already on the brink of insanity, after all. It won’t take much to push her over the edge).  
  
A sheet of paper is grasped tightly in his hand, a confirmation of what she’s just told him, her name signed at the bottom with an air of certainty that means there’s no backing out.   
  
His gaze is steady as he looks on at her, waits for an answer that he isn’t sure is going to come given her hesitancy. Then she nods, attempts to utter a response but her eyes are suddenly brimming with tears and she doesn’t trust her voice.  
  
She clears her throat, tries again.  
  
“Yes,” she tells him. “I’m sure.”  
  
He looks disappointed - not in her, but rather her decision. Or more the _consequences_ of her decision.   
  
But he nods nonetheless, accepts her choice without another word because that’s exactly what it is - _her_ choice - and makes to stand up, intends to round the desk and wrap her up in a tight hug because he’s come to love her like one of his own, and the thought of her leaving their team destroys him.   
  
She anticipates his movements, however, and while Mackenzie isn’t a particularly emotional person (she’s _not_ , and will vehemently deny anyone that argues the fact), she truly is upset about the decision and can’t stand the thought of Charlie offering her any form of comfort.  
  
She’s filled with so much pent up misery that she may crumble at the slightest touch. So, instead, she offers her boss a quick thank you and ducks out of the room.  
  
And suddenly, that’s that.  
  
In just two weeks time, Mackenzie McHale will no longer be a part of the ACN news team. 

* * *

She asks Charlie not to tell anyone, and despite his desire to tell just about _anyone_ in hopes one of them will be able to convince her to stay, he honours her wishes.   
  
Mackenzie herself only tells Jim. He offers to join her - they started as a team, after all, and he feels that they should end as such - but she tells him no. Tells him the work that he is doing with ACN is far too important to throw away (a hypocritical observation, but one he chooses not to dwell on), and so he stays.  
  
And though she gives her two weeks notice, she ends up only working one of those, opting rather to use her remaining vacation hours because she _seriously_ can’t stay there any longer. It’s destroying her mentally, her heart seeming to break further with each day.  
  
So, on the Friday of the week she hands in her notice, Mackenzie stays late. She waits for the last of their staff to leave (watches with a heavy heart as Will leaves with a leggy blonde that hangs off his arm with a smug look on her face, as if she’s not his third date of the week).   
  
Then, when the newsroom is finally empty, she retreats to her office and packs up her belongings.   
  
It takes her twice as long as it should: her limbs feel heavy with exhaustion, her eyes brim with tears on a near constant, and on a couple of occasions she even allows them to fall, choking out a sob or two.   
  
She’s quick to recollect herself though, to finish up the job at hand and get the hell out of there.   
  
It’s near midnight when she finally does. With two heavy boxes in her arms, Mackenzie casts one last longing look around the newsroom, and with a ragged sigh, leaves. 

* * *

Monday morning rolls around far too quickly.  
  
Will’s hungover (or would be, if he hadn’t thrown back a couple of glasses of scotch before heading out the door this morning) but, thankfully, it’s not obvious to anyone but him.  
  
He’s as put together as ever, and the only thing that may bely the way he’s feeling is his vile mood. The moment he steps through the newsroom door, Maggie is on at him, and he finds himself snapping at her in front of everyone (she’s learnt to not let herself be embarrassed in these situations after finding herself in them on a regular basis, but her face still flushes and Will does find himself feeling slightly guilty - he’s not a _complete_ monster).   
  
Once he’s in his office, he discards his briefcase and jacket and throws himself into his desk chair. He lights a cigarette with deft, callous fingers and lets out a heavy sigh.   
  
He can already tell it’s going to be a long week.  
  
He’s unsure of how long he sits there, smoking his cigarette and gazing out of the window before there’s a knock on his door and Charlie waltzes in without waiting for a response.  
  
“How was your weekend?” he asks, his voice booming as always, and Will winces. His head aches, and he’s dying for another glass of scotch.   
  
“Fine,” he states, the lie falling easily from his lips.  
  
In fact, it had been anything but. He’d spent his Friday evening with a woman that was so dense he found himself questioning whether she had a single brain cell knocking about in her head. And when he wasn’t rolling his eyes at her stupidity, he found himself wishing that she were Mackenzie, because at least that way he’d be sure to have some intelligent conversation, and he knows for sure _Mackenzie_ wouldn’t get upset over his playful teasing.  
  
Following that, he spent the rest of his weekend drinking and smoking on his balcony - meaning his throat now ached, along with his head, his liver was probably shot, and the bitter winter winds had left him with the beginnings of a cold.   
  
And no matter how much he had to drink, he couldn’t get Mackenzie off his mind.  
  
Charlie merely nods in response, choosing not to push (Will forgets sometimes that this man who feels so much like the father he wishes he had can read him like a book).  
  
“Well, I hope you’re in a good mood because I sure as shit don’t want you scaring off our new EP before she’s even had a chance to show us what she’s made of,” Charlie teases. “I’ll send her in in five.”  
  
Will rolls his eyes. He’s hardly in the mood to meet new people, and certainly doesn’t fancy playing nice all morning.   
  
And his mind is hazy enough that it takes him a moment to register what Charlie’s telling him. The older man is almost out of his office door before Will stops him.  
  
“What the fuck do you mean by ‘new EP’?” he questions harshly.   
  
Charlie stops in his tracks, heaves out a heavy sigh before retreating, letting the door close as he turns back to Will.   
  
“Her name is Ella. She’s in her mid thirties, and worked at CBS for a few years before she had her child. She’s been a stay at home mom for four years, and wants to get back to work now that her daughter has started school. I’ve seen some of her work - she’s fantastic at what she does, Will. She’s gonna be a great addition to our team.”  
  
“But why do we need a new EP?” Will asks. He’s fairly certain he knows why, but he needs to hear Charlie say it, needs the confirmation before he can believe it.  
  
Because surely it can’t be true… Surely she hasn’t-  
  
“We need someone new now that Mac has left.” Charlie tells him, his tone somber.  
  
“Mackenzie’s… left?”

* * *

She needs to pack, she knows she does, but she can’t bring herself to start. There’s a pile of empty cardboard boxes idling in the corner of the lounge.   
  
Every time she looks at them she begins to cry, because she honestly can’t believe it’s come to this.  
  
Of course when she joined ACN, she knew it wouldn’t be an easy ride. It had been three years since she’d last seen Will, after all, and the last words he’d said to her had been harsh, full of spite, spat at her as she cried at his feet and begged him to forgive her.   
  
So, no, she wasn’t expecting sunshine and rainbows when she saw him, wasn’t expecting him to roll out the red carpet or tell her he’d been an idiot and that he forgave her, loved her, couldn’t spend another moment without her…  
  
But she wasn’t expecting this either.  
  
The show was going well, herself and Will were finally starting to get along, and Mackenzie honestly thought she could find herself building a life here. Sure, it may not be the one she wanted - she wouldn’t wake up next to Will every morning, wouldn’t spend lazy Sunday’s making pancakes with him, wouldn’t marry him in front of their friends and families, wouldn’t hear him tell her he loved her any chance he got, wouldn’t make him smile and laugh the way only she could…   
  
But a good life nonetheless.  
  
Instead, she finds herself moping around near every night. Watches Will go on date after date after date, parading each conquest around the newsroom with a complete disregard for Mackenzie’s feelings. Agonises over the past. Wishes she’d never been such an _idiot_.  
  
And it’s honestly too much.  
  
She’s falling apart at the seams, and she can’t handle it anymore.  
  
So she’s leaving. Has left. Will completely start over.   
  
Will let herself be happy again.  
  
Eventually. 

* * *

It’s nearing 10pm on Monday night when her doorbell rings.   
  
She’s curled up on the couch with an empty wine glass held loosely in her hand, her cheeks a deep red and stained with tears, and she honestly can’t believe that’s the time because she’s done _nothing_ with her day.  
  
It feels like she only woke up a few minutes ago… How has she wasted the last 14 hours?  
  
She’s tempted to ignore it, unsure of who’s on the other side (who on Earth calls round uninvited at this time of night?). But whoever it is is persistent, rings the buzzer once, twice more, clearly desperate to see her.  
  
Mackenzie drags herself from the couch after the fourth ring, which lasts longer than those before it, leaving her empty glass on the coffee table. She pulls her cardigan tighter around her, warding off the bitter cold of the evening, and her feet carry her to do the door almost of their own accord.  
  
Without looking through the peephole, she swings the door open and instantly regrets her decision.  
  
Her heart near stops as she sees Will on the other side, his face a picture of worry.   
  
She’s taken aback, her lips parting as if to say something but the words die on her tongue. He looks up at her with bloodshot eyes, meets her gaze, and her heart near shatters in two.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Mackenzie finally manages to ask.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks in turn, opting to ignore her own question because he feels his is much more important at the moment.  
  
She shakes her head, dark curls framing her face as she drops her gaze, fixates on the floor because she honestly can’t stand to look at him when he’s looking like this.   
  
“Mackenzie?” His tone is urgent. He reaches for her hand, his fingers tightly grasping her own, and she near shatters at the feeling. She can’t remember the last time he touched her, merely remembers aching for it all those nights she spent alone in Islamabad, wishing she was at home with him and not risking her life as a self-inflicted punishment for her idiotic mistakes.  
  
She’s unsure of how to answer him. Why _didn’t_ she tell him? She doubts he would have stopped her… and perhaps that’s why. She couldn’t stand the thought of her threatening to leave his life yet again and him so willingly allowing her to go.  
  
It would’ve broken her beyond repair.   
  
“You better come in,” she tells him, because if they’re going to do this, she’d rather not do it on her doorstep where they can be heard by her (soon to be ex) neighbours.

* * *

He settles on the couch while she pours them each a drink (something strong, he hopes). His hands are clammy, and he wipes them on the thighs of the jeans that he hastily threw on after ridding himself of his suit from tonight’s show.   
  
She returns quickly, a glass of scotch in each hand, offers one to him that he accepts with a timid ‘thank you’ and then sits herself on the opposite end of the couch. He yearns to reach out for her, to take her in his arms and offer her the comfort she’s desperate for.  
  
But he’s unsure of how she’ll react. So he stays put, sips at his drink as he thinks of what he wants to say.   
  
“Why did you leave?” he asks her, unable to meet her gaze.   
  
And it’s shocking to see Will like this. He’s strong and brave and charismatic and charming, but as she looks at him now, watches the way he picks at a non-existent piece of lint on his pants, he looks so much like a little boy. Vulnerable, scared...   
  
She wants to feel sorry for him. Truly, she does. But she can’t. Because he’s the reason she left (both times - sure, it had been her mistake the first time, but he was the one that had kicked her to curb without offering her the chance to explain) and she thinks, deep down, he knows this.  
  
Still, she tells him anyway.   
  
If only to get this over with quicker, because it’s killing her having him here. The sooner this is over, the better. Then she can move on with her life as she intended.   
  
“You’re the reason I left, Billy,” Mackenzie tells him and hearing the nickname fall so easily from her lips is like a kick in the teeth.  
  
He’d never admitted it, but he used to love hearing her call him that.  
  
“Every time I see you, I think of the life we could have had had I not been such a complete idiot. And you seem hell bent on punishing me still, even after all this time, and I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t. It’s killing me.”  
  
She’s crying now, and it’s breaking Will’s heart. He reaches for her this time, wipes gently at her cheek to rid her of the stream of tears that fall, and he hears her breathe catch in her throat as he touches her.   
  
“I’m sorry, Mackenzie,” he tells her, though he’s not entirely sure which of his many mistakes he’s apologising for.   
  
And, because he himself can’t stand to hurt anymore, he tells her the truth. Speaks the words she’s been longing to hear for the four years they’ve been apart.  
  
“I still love you.”  
  
She loses it. Mackenzie lets out a heart-wrenching sob and collapses in on herself. Will sets his glass on the table, takes hers and places it beside his own before he settles down next to her and pulls her into his arms.   
  
He whispers sweet nothings into her hair as she curls up against his chest, tells her he’s sorry and that he loves her over and over as she cries.  
  
Neither of them are entirely sure how long they sit like that, Mackenzie crying and Will holding her (and shedding a few tears of his own because, God, how did they get to this point?) but eventually her tears subside.   
  
She looks up at him, lifts her hand to gently caress his cheek.  
  
“I love you, too,” she tells him, plain and simple.  
  
And just like that, everything rights itself.   
  
He’s quick to kiss her then, desperate to feel her lips against his own for the first time in _years_. He pours his heart into it, the fingers of one hand threading through her hair and holding her close, as all tension leaves Mackenzie’s body in a breath sighed against Will’s lips.   
  
He kisses her the way she remembers; slowly but deeply, as if it’ll be the last time, as if this single action will prove to her how much he loves her in a way that words won't.  
  
It’s hungry and desperate, and just a tad awkward (forgive them, they’re a bit out of practice). But he’s quick to put her at ease, breaking from her for a brief moment to tell her again that he loves her, that he never stopped, and _God_ , she’d forgotten how much she loved hearing him say it.   
  
She never wants to _not_ hear him say it again.  
  
He wants more; that much is evident in the way he holds her tightly to him (it’s a little awkward what with the way they’re sitting) and carries on kissing her despite his dire need for air, but he doesn’t want to push. Doesn’t want to move too quickly and scare her away.  
  
_As if he ever could_.  
  
Will pulls back momentarily, can’t help but chuckle at the slight huff of dismay she emits. And he’s about to ask her if she wants to take this further, or something of that effect, but she beats him to it.  
  
“Take me to bed, Billy,” she commands, and _God_ it utterly melts him. “If you want to, that is?”  
  
He’d honestly have to be an idiot to turn down such an offer.  
  
“There’s nothing I’d love more, Mackenzie,” he tells her, his voice husky and his lips swollen from kissing her, and it sends a rush of arousal through her.   
  
She climbs from the couch and reaches for him. He grasps at her hands, intertwines their fingers, and follows her up with a slight groan (she’d make a joke about his age but her intentions cloud her brain to the point where all she can focus on is _being with him_ again).  
  
Will kisses her again the moment he’s on his feet, unable to keep his hands off her now, and she has to walk backwards to her bedroom (which is slightly awkward) but she doesn’t mind.  
  
They cross the threshold to her room, and Will is suddenly ravenous. He rids Mackenzie of her cardigan shirt, discards of them on the floor before grabbing at her hips and pulling her flush against him. Her arms wind around his neck and she grinds her hips against his, eliciting a groan from Will that only turns her on further.  
  
He sits himself on the edge of the bed as Mackenzie takes off her pants. And he’s enjoying the show, he really is, until he spots it.   
  
He almost misses it; it’s dark, and he’s utterly mesmerised by the way her skin flushes and the way her chest rises and falls with her breathing. But when he does, the sight of it is enough to knock the air out of him.  
  
Mackenzie spots the look of concern that crosses his face, and her brows furrow in response. She’s unsure of what’s wrong until he reaches out with deft fingers that flutter across her skin briefly, as if he’s afraid that any sort of pressure will hurt her.  
  
She can’t look at him then. Her gaze flickers upwards and she stares intently at the ceiling, refusing to cry again. She’s waited so long for this moment, she will _not_ allow a few silly tears to ruin it.  
  
“Mackenzie…” She loves when he says her name like that, _Mackenzie_ rather than the _Mac_ she’s become so accustomed to hearing.   
  
He usually only refers to her like that, using her full name as opposed to her nickname, when they’re alone. And it’s always sweet or sexy and it makes her fall in love with him more.  
  
But it’s different this time.   
  
It’s uttered with a heavy heart, an apologetic tone that she hates to hear because it’s not his fault, truly. She’s sure he’ll argue otherwise, but it’s _not._   
  
“We’ll talk later,” she tells him, finally looking back at him and watching the way his gaze flickers up to meet her own. He offers her a sad smile before leaning forward and pressing his lips to the scar.   
  
A watery sob leaves her lips, as much as she tries to keep it at bay. But it’s such a sweet gesture, one full of love and so reminiscent of the man she used to know. _Her Billy_.   
  
He says no more of it, eager not to ruin the moment beyond repair, and instead toys with the lace of her panties.   
  
It’s only a feather-light touch, barely anything, but it’s enough to make her shiver, a stuttering breath falling from her lips. It’s been a while since she was last touched like this, around four years to be exact, and she’s nervous.   
  
It’s silly, she knows. Because this is _Will_ , her sweet and gentle Will. But what if she’s lost her touch? Forgotten what she’s doing? Can’t satisfy him the way she used to?   
  
There’s a brief lapse in her inner concern when Will tugs her panties down her hips, her thighs, and she steps out of them as they drop to the floor. He reaches up for her bra next, unclasps it with skilled fingers, and she rids herself of it, lets it fall to the floor alongside her underwear.  
  
And then she’s completely naked.  
  
And he’s staring at her like she’s the most magnificent sight in the world.   
  
She feels self-conscious suddenly. She’s older, not as slim as she was when he last saw her, has scars and wrinkles and freckles in places she didn’t use to.   
  
Mackenzie moves to cover her breasts with her arms, but Will catches her hands with his own, shakes his head as he stands from the bed. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear as a blush adorns her cheeks, her gaze falling to the floor as she’s overcome with nerves.  
  
“You’re the most beautiful woman I know,” he tells her, and despite it coming out in a whisper, the sentiment sounds ever so loud in the otherwise silent room.   
  
A brilliant smile forms on her lips as she looks back up at him. Her eyes crinkle in the corners in the way that he loves, and he just has to kiss her then, with her looking at him like that - as if he put the stars in the sky.  
  
And then, because it’s entirely unfair that she’s wearing nothing and he’s still fully dressed, Mackenzie begins to unbutton Will’s shirt. Her hands are somewhat shaky, which makes the task ten times more difficult than it should be, but he quickly intervenes and they’re able to fully unbutton it.   
  
He shrugs it off and lets it fall to the floor while Mackenzie undoes his belt, then the button of his jeans, then the zipper.  
  
She’s honestly desperate to have him naked now, to have him touching her the way he knows she loves.   
  
Once he’s naked too, Mackenzie takes a brief moment to admire him. Her fingers brush lightly over his chest, his shoulders, every inch of his torso, simply because they can.  
  
And then _he’s_ the desperate one, lifting her off her feet and playfully throwing her on the bed, causing her to laugh and squeal and admonish him because of his back and knees.  
  
But he doesn’t care.  
  
All he cares about is holding her, and kissing her, and tasting her. Finally, _finally,_ after four long years of being without her.  
  
Mackenzie settles back against the pillows, and Will makes himself comfortable between her legs, parting her thighs as she lets out a shuddering breath.   
  
He teases her, presses wet, open-mouthed kisses up the inside of one thigh, then the other. She writhes beneath him, breathes out a gentle “please” because she’s positively aching for him at this point and wishes he’d stop with the teasing.   
  
And then he’s exactly where she wants him, one finger slowly entering her as he presses his tongue to her clit. She’s wet for him already, and he easily slides another finger in after the first.   
  
He scrapes his teeth against her clit and she gasps in response, hips bucking off the bed, eager to get closer to him, for more pressure because, as amazing as this feels, it’s just not enough.   
  
He takes his time, wanting to re-learn her body, what she likes, the little sounds she makes, and commit it all to memory.   
  
As her gasps grow louder, and she finds herself begging him for more, Will picks up the pace, desperate suddenly to be inside her.   
  
It’s not long before Mackenzie is coming against his tongue. Words fail her as she rides out her orgasm, her breathing heavy, Will not letting up until the final ripples of pleasure pass through her.  
  
He climbs up her body then, pressing gentle kisses to every inch of skin he can reach, before latching onto a nipple and making her gasp.   
  
Then he’s looking into her eyes and she’s smiling up at him and she truly _is_ the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen.   
  
“Hi,” she whispers, and he laughs before uttering it back.   
  
“You okay?” he asks. She’s unable to form a coherent response so she nods, her grin not faltering, and he can’t help the one that spreads across his own face in response.   
  
This is the happiest he’s been in the longest time. He can’t believe he was such a stubborn fool for so long.   
  
They could’ve had this so much sooner if Will had just pulled his head out of his ass a while ago.   
  
He doesn’t dwell though, if for no other reason than Mackenzie wrapping her fingers around his erection, making him lose the ability to think.   
  
And it feels amazing, it truly does (she’s always been an expert at getting him off) but it won’t last if she carries on. He tells her as much, and she offers him a sheepish smile, looks up at him through dark eyelashes and he swears his heart skips a beat at the sight.   
  
He has to climb off her for the briefest moment to retrieve a condom from his wallet, and he’s sure to check that she definitely wants this (of course she does) as he readies himself.   
  
Then he slides into her and they’re both moaning out each other’s name, grasping onto each other because this feels so damn good.

It doesn’t last long (and for that he apologises, which he definitely doesn’t need to do because he’s already made her feel so good). It’s a little awkward, too.   
  
But when they find their rhythm, it feels incredible. It’s almost as if they’ve never been apart. Her legs are wrapped around his hips, and he’s so _deep,_ and the way he breathes out her name as he comes is something she’ll never tire of hearing.   
  
He collapses onto her, settles against her chest. They’re both breathing heavily, the only sounds in the quiet room, but they both feel amazing.   
  
After a brief rest, they both make quick work of cleaning themselves up.  
  
Mackenzie finishes first, settles in bed and waits for him to return. Her eyes feel heavy and she’s on the brink of sleep when she feels him climb beneath the covers behind her. Will wraps himself around her, and she feels so unbelievably safe in his arms.   
  
He whispers an “I love you” against her shoulder, which she repeats before she falls asleep.   
  
And she honestly can’t wait for the morning. She knows they have a lot to talk about, but it’ll be the first morning in a long time that she’ll wake up happy.   
  
Because he’s back, and he loves her, and they have their whole lives ahead of them.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's that.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this. As always, please leave kudos and comments. It means a lot.
> 
> Until next time!


End file.
